


Love's A One-Time Deal

by BlessedPicturesPresents



Category: Alan Wake (Video Game), Alan Wake's American Nightmare
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood, Blood and Violence, Clothed Sex, Couch Sex, Darkness, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Death, Double Penetration, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mild Gore, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Minor Character Death, Multi, Oral Sex, Spitroasting, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:28:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26734378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlessedPicturesPresents/pseuds/BlessedPicturesPresents
Summary: Scratch catches Wake trying to turn on the lights, and decides to add some Darkness of his own. Then, they visit Serena Valdivia.
Relationships: Mr. Scratch/Alan Wake, Mr. Scratch/Alan Wake/Serena Valdiva, Mr. Scratch/Serena Valdivia, Serena Valdiva/Alan Wake
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Love's A One-Time Deal

Scratch found Wake in the same place he always was, this time of night: skulking around the power station, looking for the switch. He was trying to turn the lights on, power the booth, for whatever good that’d do him. This was about the same time of night Scratch sent him back in time, back to the start, _try again, little rat._ So Scratch knew his role in this part, knew what steps he was _supposed_ to take.. technically. Wake had gotten better at the whole, “changing reality to his whims” thing, and had clearly created a tight plot here this time. But the writer still had no ideas what holes the Darkness could use to it’s advantages.. and where the Darkness could slip through, Scratch could too. He’d already managed more than once, breaking the final pages into chunks, making it impossible for Wake to have the whole picture, the whole plan all at once- and he didn’t know what chunk that scientist had given Wake this time, sure, but between Scratch’s meddling and Wake’s inability to actually understand the greater story here, there was no way that Wake knew everything yet.

Which was great, don’t get him wrong. But it also meant it wasn’t half as fun as it could be. Wake still had all that pesky, light-side bullshit _hope,_ that human bullheadedness that was causing him to keep smashing his stupid skull against the walls of Scratch’s cage. It was fun to watch the rat run around the maze, sure. But it’d been a few rounds now. The same old thrills were failing to excite Scratch, who had nothing better to do right now than watch Wake. Watch him pick up the stupid pieces. Watch him wander aimlessly around the desert. Watch him blunder through the puzzles. Watch him talk to every stupid person he could find along the way, clearly desperate for human contact. Y a w n. He was getting bored, and bored meant he wasn’t willing to play, and being unwilling to play meant Wake’s life was starting to lose it’s point, and _that_ meant that the inevitable ending would be merciful for them both, but without their relationship really having the meat on it’s bones to sell that punch, to let Scratch savor it. He had so many plans for Wake and all of Wake’s friends, he couldn’t lose his patience now.

So, the introduction of the shovel to the back of Wake’s head was for the best, really. Not hard enough to kill, of course, that’d ruin everything, but hard enough to send the writer sprawling across the dirt, spluttering, dazed. In the follow-through, Scratch just lets the shovel go; it flies out of his hand, scattering off into the darkness and clanging against a fence somewhere. Wake only takes a second to react, already starting to push against the ground to try and get himself up, but Scratch pounces then, grabbing him with fistfuls of tacky plaid, heaving him up instead. Wake couldn’t quite reach him in such an awkward position, and he tries to reach the ground instead- or maybe Scratch’s ankles, or maybe fucking _anything_ , anything at all. The gun had scattered off elsewhere, involuntarily flung the second the shovel hit, and was now unhelpfully hiding in the darkness and dirt and weeds, while the flashlight madly waved around equally unhelpful as Wake wiggled, trying to free himself, trying to understand what was happening. Scratch laughed.

“Oh, hey, Alan, didn’t see you there,” he crowed, turning Wake as he thrashed, slamming him back down against the dirt, “ _sorry,_ you know how it is. You go swinging shovels,” he lifts Wake again, slamming him hard against the ground a second time, knocking the air out of him- the writer starts to cough, weakly waving a fist towards Scratch’s face, but too disoriented to actually do much damage or even hit him- “one thing leads to another, you don’t see someone, whack.” Scratch drops Wake unceremoniously to fall against the dirt, a cloud of dust puffing out around Wake’s body, holding his hands out in mock sheepishness. “Oopsies.” Wake isn’t really listening, trying to catch his breath, coughing and wild-eyed. “Blood everywhere. _Such_ a mess. And people start yelling…” He shivers in fake disgust, grinning. “A _mess_. Am I right?”

One brutal backhand throws the light out of Wake’s hand, and Scratch jumps onto him, grabs him again, further up his chest now, balling both his ugly shirts up against his throat. Wake grabs Scratch’s wrists in return, trying to pull his grip away, break the hold he has on Wake. Shame he’s so out of breath, or he’d be able to, Scratch is sure, with all that pitiable human whatever. He snorts.

“So- look- I had a thought,” Scratch starts, sliding his knees down onto either side of Wake’s ribcage, pinning him more firmly in place. “You, me, we’ve been having a good time, right? Good times had by all?” Wake hisses as Scratch’s legs tighten around him, and flails another hand up at Scratch, but Scratch slaps it back and tightens his grip on the writer’s shirt. “It’s been fun. But it’s getting old. You run, I follow. You fight, I laugh. It’s all great the first time, the second time maybe, but now I know what to expect, and you’re not really putting out the way I need you to to really _sell_ this for me.”

“Fuck you,” Wake finally spits out. He’s clearly gotten more of his bearings now, and grabs Scratch’s forearms harder, tightly pulling at his doppleganger’s iron grip. Scratch raises his eyebrows.

“ _Rude._ ” He slams Wake against the ground again, but there’s not much give thanks to Scratch’s tight hold on Wake and the fact he’s sitting on the guy’s ribcage, and it doesn’t quite have the same effect as before. Wake hisses and starts to move, but Scratch hoists him up and headbutts him, _hard_. Wake’s nose erupts with blood; he howls but Scratch ignores it, annoyed at the hair that’s now fallen in his face. “Listen, I’m trying to say something here. I’m bored. Aren’t you bored?” Scratch leans up a bit, one hand releasing Wake’s shirt; he runs it through his hair, sighing. “I know they say that the whole literary trope of threes, works to blah blah blah, make a pattern, whatever, but I’m not feeling it, and I’m starting to think you don’t have it in you to actually finish this, buddy, and I sure as hell don’t have it in me to watch you fail _forever_ , yanno?”

Wake grabs at his throat, and Scratch hoots, delighted. Finally, some fight! He savagely hits Wake in the face with his fist, dazing him again. Scratch laughs.

“Goddamn, look at you! Did you find your spine, Alan, huh? I love it.” More laughter, which peters off after a moment, amused. “Ahaha. Ahh. Anyways. I had an idea. We’re fighting, it’s- it’s whatever, it was fun but now it’s whatever- and I think, you know, you deserve a little break. We deserve a little break.”

“Get the _fuck off me_ ,” Wake replies through bloodied teeth, pushing his hips up in an attempt to unbalance Scratch.

“Not yet. I wanna try something.”

Scratch releases Wake’s shirt, but before the writer can actually take advantage of this and gain the upper hand, Scratch’s hands are firmly grasping Wake’s throat and pressing, hard. Wake’s eyes widen, wild, blown out from the sudden lack of air; he chokes, kicking against the ground, trying to upset Scratch’s grip. His hands scrabble at Scratch’s face, arms, chest- anything he can get his fingers on, but apart from slicing blood from Scratch’s face with some of his nails, Wake can’t actually upset him. They struggle there for a few terrible minutes, and just as Wake starts to lose consciousness, starts to weaken and fade out, eyes fluttering- Scratch releases him. Wake gets a single cough out before Scratch smashes their lips together, pushing all the Darkness he has at his disposal into Wake, all at once.

To his credit, Wake struggles longer than the others, mentally trying to buck off the Darkness gripping his mind. It’s not enough to Take Wake, not yet- he’s not useful Taken. But it is enough to control him, to some extent. Scratch watches, grinning, as Wake settles, huffing out shadows, eyes sliding half-closed in submission.

“Perfect. Cmon, get up. We’ve got a friend to visit.”

* * *

She’s exactly where he left her, because why wouldn’t she be. Scratch can hear her demented muttering through the deliciously thin walls of the theater’s office, still hiding somewhere in the darkness. He pushes Wake’s shuffling form through the door, stumbling slightly; he notices some blood and dust on the back of Wake’s head, oozing into that heinous plaid of his, turning the hair on the back of his head into a sticky mat. Gross. He ruffles the hair up, wipes the blood on his pant leg with no small amusement, smirks to Serena as she wanders around the corner.

“Ohhh.. it’s you,” she murmurs, dazed with Darkness.

“Hey babe. Miss me?” Scratch replies, pushing Wake towards the couch. He sets the writer down on it, pushing him back against it, making sure he’s solidly sitting down. Wake’s eyes flutter up at him, not quite all there, swaying where he’s sitting, his face smeared with blood and dust. Scratch wipes some of the dust off his mouth, smiling. “Don’t go falling on me now, Alan.” Wake doesn’t seem to hear him. Lovely, just lovely.

Serena doesn’t even hear him speak to Wake, giving him a tiny little giggle. “Of course I did,” she purrs, voice slurring. “I’ve been counting all the bruises you gave me, daddy.”

“That’s great, kitten.” He straightens up, pulling off his suit jacket, cocking his head at her. “I’ve got my buddy here, Alan. He’s having a hard day, he could really use your help.”

“Oh no,” Serena drones, leaning against the wall she’s beside. She doesn’t seem able to walk steadily, not that he gives a goddamn. He throws his coat at the chair near the front, sighing. “What can I do?”

“Why don’t you give him a good hello, cheer him up a little.” Serena drunkenly smiles at him, and he pulls her to him, pushing her at Wake. She wobbles, and he pushes hard on her shoulders so she goes down. “Down on your knees, there you go. You know what to do, don’t you?”

“Mmm, he looks as good as you do,” she murmurs, and starts to dazedly undo Wake’s pants. He looks down at her through hooded eyes, not really seeing her.

“Well, _that’s_ not true,” Scratch mutters, voice dark, undoing his tie and vest while Serena gets to work, lapping at Wake’s flaccid dick with all the fervor of a drunken co-ed. He starts, coughing slightly, dust and shadows clogging his lungs, but he doesn’t seem to care. Somewhere, deep in there, Wake must be losing his fucking mind. Married man sleeping with some Darkness floozy friend of his wife’s. Devastating, Scratch is sure. He chuckles to himself, hands in his pockets, listening to Serena’s moans and sloppy slurping. She’s really working him, with over the top movements and noises, wide-mouthed licking. It’s honestly just this side of disgusting to watch, but that just makes it all so much more amusing.

Despite whatever internal battle Wake must be having, his body is reacting perfectly. His dick hardens the longer that Serena licks at it, fondling his balls and kissing the shaft. Scratch creeps closer as she takes it into her mouth, bobbing up and down on him. Wake twitches, a soft moan leaving his lips, and Scratch smiles at him. “See, buddy?” he stage whispers. “I told you! She’s great, isn’t she?”

Scratch works a hand into her hair, pulling up, the ponytail making it oh-so-easy; she moans loudly against Wake’s dick, which makes the writer jump slightly. Scratch grins wider. “There you go, Alan. Just give in.” He starts to push Serena’s head down against Wake, and she gags as she struggles to take it all in, making soft little noises of distress amongst all the sucking and choking. Her hands grip Wake’s jeans, scrabble slightly against the couch; she wants to keep going, but Scratch’s pace is too hard for her, and she’s starting to go limp, drool slicking her lips and Wake’s dick, a single tear from the strain sliding down her face and onto Wake. Watching this proves more scintillating than Scratch imagined, and he’s starting to get hard, pants tight against him and making the room warmer. Scratch pushes her against Wake’s dick a few more times, until the gagging is actually too much for him to bear, and he pulls back, releasing her and huffing as he pulls his pants open.

Scratch pulls his dick into the air, palming it a few times to help it finish hardening, grunting under his breath. With some amusement he notes the difference between him and Wake- Serena clearly had to wiggle Wake’s dick out through the front flap of his boxers, but Scratch doesn’t bother with underthings, finding them silly, just getting in the way. Hilarious, two guys sharing the same set of memories but still having their own little differences. Scratch muses that Wake must lack the confidence to eschew boxers entirely, or maybe he’s just more of a prude. Scratch bends down and hoists Serena’s hips up by the waist of her jeans; she stumbles like a newborn deer, her feet scrabbling against the carpet to try and right herself as he forces her up into a standing position, uncomfortably leaning over Wake, mouth still full. Scratch kicks at her ankles until her legs are wide enough for his liking; Serena makes what can only be described as a pained and confused moan, hands gripping Wake’s hips tightly, trying to keep at her work. From behind, Scratch rips open her jeans, roughly pushing them down, fingers sliding under still-disrupted panties to find her slick, wet and wanting. She moans against Wake again and Scratch clicks his tongue, laughing.

“Oh, you _are_ a good girl. Keep doing what you’re doing, don’t mind me.” As he slides one and then another finger into her, she starts to suck at Wake even more greedily, moaning like a porn star. It’s just too much. With some difficulty, having to shift position multiple times from standing to kneeling and then almost having to lean against the floor, he manages to pull the jeans off her legs one at a time, working her open when he can. The second they’re off he rights himself again, back up on his feet, kicking her jeans to the side with no small annoyance. Scratch takes a second to get his bearings, make sure that Serena is steady; he grips her hip bone sharply, slides his feet into a position that will keep him stable too, and pushes his dick into her with no warning. Serena groans lusciously, bucking her hips up against him awkwardly from her nearly 45-degree angle, pushing against the couch to try and keep herself from falling over. “That’s it,” Scratch murmurs, and starts to thrust at his own pace, slowly at first but faster as he realizes that the harder he fucks, the deeper he drives Wake’s dick into her throat, and no amount of Serena’s nearly drunken pushing against the couch can stop it.

This continues for a few minutes, the air hot and humid, Serena moaning and gagging in equal measure with each thrust. Wake’s starting to sweat, his breath getting heavier and faster, and Scratch can tell he’s close; his hands keep twitching, raising a half-inch off the scratchy couch cushions like he wants to grab her or push her away, and then falling uselessly again. There’s still no light in his eyes, the Darkness turning baby blue into murky gray. His head lolls back and his eyes find Scratch, who is thoroughly enjoying himself, biting his lower lip and grunting, smiling, winking once at Wake. Something flickers in Wake’s look, but disappears again- there’s still time. Perfect.

Meanwhile, Serena is driving him nuts. She can’t really keep herself up, and she’s barely able to keep herself standing; he’s basically having to do all the goddamn work here, holding her up, pushing her forward, keeping her from just fucking sprawling across everything. As much as he’s enjoying her choked, gagging moans and the sound of Wake’s dick in her throat, this is getting tiresome. He’s trying to share a moment here, and he can barely even see Wake through all the work he’s having to do, goddamn.

“What do you say, Alan?” Scratch asks, breathlessly. “Something new? Yeah. Something new.”

With one fluid motion he grabs her ponytail again, wrapping it around his fist and pulling hard, yanking Serena off of Wake’s dick, her mouth making an erotic pop as it’s pulled away, and she moans. Drool strings from her now-puffy lips to Wake’s dick, breaking the second Scratch pulls her all the way up, thrusting into her once more as she stands fully, leaning against him. She responds with the same screamy-moan weirdness she’d given him the first time, a breathless “oh! yes!”. Overeager as always. The Darkness really made her shameless. He rolls his eyes, looks at Wake.

“She thinks this is a porno, huh?” He grins. Wake doesn’t move, breathing hard, watching him in a daze. His legs spread wide, his boxers pushed around his spit-slick dick, pre-cum slowly oozing up and dripping down his shaft ever so slightly, his face flushed, he looks like one hell of a present and Scratch can’t wait to keep ripping it apart. “Ridiculous. Cmere, kitten. Alan’s nice and ready now, don’t you think?”

“I got him ready for you, baby,” she moans back, slurring worse now, voice hoarse from his rough ministrations. Scratch rolls his eyes again and he pushes her forward, stumbling and tripping onto her knees again, off of his own dick. A sharp cry escapes her as she hits the ground, and Scratch can almost swear Wake winces at it. He scrutinizes the writer for a moment, trying to see if Wake’s coming out of his daze, if he’s doing just fine. Nope. Still fucked up. Thought so.

“That you did. Saddle up.”

“Ohhh..” she pouts, slowly crawling forward from the floor onto the couch, waggling her ass at him as she does, trying to entice him as she goes about the frankly embarrassingly awkward task of straddling Wake with next to no physical grace, “but I want _you._ ”

“Don’t you worry about that,” Scratch purrs, stepping forward and leaning down on one knee, positioning her right on top of Wake. “Show him what you showed me earlier, hm?” As Serena rocks her hips in a circular motion around the head of Wake’s dick, her hands on either side of his head, Scratch pulls at her shirt, another tacky fucking plaid that showers Wake with buttons as Scratch rips it open, hoists it off her arms and discards it, already forgotten. Her timid white bra is still underwhelming. He pulls at the front of the cups, pushing her breasts up with it, exposing hard nipples. Scratch tweaks one and Serena yelps playfully, moaning as she slides down onto Wake, who twitches again.

Serena rolls her hips, settling comfortably on Wake before she starts to ride him, moaning louder and louder each time she moves up and down, almost taking all of Wake inside her. Scratch keeps one hand on her, flat against her stomach to stabilize her as she bobs up and down; he centers himself behind her, angles his dick carefully against her ass, and pushes inside her slowly, using her own motion to ease him along, deeper and deeper into her ass. Serena goes practically boneless against him with each inch, moaning ever louder, throat hoarse, a touch of pain in her voice. He can feel Wake inside her, feel the pressure of his dick as her hips buck against them both.

“Oh, _fuck,_ ” Scratch whispers despite himself, his eyes sliding closed as he steadies Serena on them, helps her thrust against them both. It’s so much more intimate than he thought it’d be, sharing this with Wake, feeling the writer and knowing he felt it too. Shame Serena’s mouth wouldn’t fucking close. She kept shrieking and moaning, crying out in what was increasingly dramatic over-eroticism, her _oh_ s and _ah_ s and _yes please fuck!_ s all over-pronounced, too desperate, too needy. Too fucking _loud_. Scratch screws his closed eyes tighter, using his free hand to play with Serena’s plump tits, tweak at her nipples, pulling just a little too hard, twisting just a little too much. She just keeps getting louder. He briefly considers covering her mouth with his hand, but he unfortunately knew from experience that it wouldn’t help; she’d just take it as a _challenge,_ really, and shriek around his fingers. Annoying.

Scratch opens his eyes, focusing on Wake’s gaping face. The writer’s really panting now, Serena’s hands tight in his hair, her fingers slicked with blood. She giggles at it and keeps twisting her fingers in, going on and on like a cheap porno, _ohh! ohh! yes! harder!_ , but Wake isn’t responding much more than a twitch here, a gasp of pain there, the softest moans caught in his throat as smoke trails off his skin and between his lips. He’s watching Serena bounce, but Scratch isn’t really sure Wake’s seeing her, shuddering and close now. It’d be so delicious to have Wake cum in her, maybe have them cum at the same time, complicit in this together-

Oh, but Serena is too fucking annoying. As good as it feels, as deep as he is inside her, Scratch has finally fucking had enough. He pulls his hand away from her chest, grabs at the switchblade he has pushed into his waistband, at the back. It _snk_ s open, and he focuses, slides one hand up to the center of her chest and pushes the Darkness into her again, aiming to Take her before the kill- “Hey, Alan!” he stage whispers, “watch this!” -but he realizes his mistake the second he shoves the knife deep into her throat, slashing it open, and blood showers over Wake in an amazing wave. For the first time Wake actually reacts, his eyes widening in fear and horror, despite still being dazed with Darkness and lost, and he jerks his hands up off the couch for half a moment, like he can stop Scratch or the bleeding or something, but as Serena’s mind grasps that she’s about to die, the Darkness fully Takes her, and the body shudders and disappears in smoke.

Instant quiet. No more shrieking, or moaning, gurgling, any of the loud motherfucking noise that Serena was making. Just a gasping Wake, covered in blood, and Scratch’s breathless laughter. “Holy shit!” he says after a moment, a little too loud, surprised by his own work. “Holy _shit_ did you see that!?”

Wake doesn’t move, of course, but Scratch does, smoothly leaning up to standing again, swaying where he is, laughing. The knife clatters to the floor and he runs a bloody hand through his hair, moaning. “That was _fucking incredible!_ ” And just as suddenly, he swoops down onto the couch, knees slotting perfectly into the dents in the couch cushions that Serena’s knees had left behind, straddling Wake. “God, you’re fucking covered in her, aren’t you, Alan,” Scratch murmurs, panting. Wake’s wide eyes fixate on him, chest still heaving with ragged gasps, but Scratch can’t tell if it’s arousal or fear or what- it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter. He leans his body so close against Wake’s, sliding his dick up against Wake’s, taking them both in his hand. “Ohhh,” Scratch moans against Wake’s ear. “Wasn’t she good? Didn’t you just- _hh,_ just love that? I loved that.”

It doesn’t take much to get them both off, between Scratch’s delight at wanton murder and Wake’s body pushed past it’s limits; it’s not long before he and Wake both cum into and over Scratch’s hand, messily onto Wake’s stupid t-shirt and plaid, mixing into all the blood and dust. Scratch is overwhelmed by all the emotion, all the sensation running so fast together, and can’t help smashing his lips against Wake’s as they do, moaning into the writer’s mouth, biting his bottom lip hard. He can’t tell who’s blood he’s tasting and fuck, he doesn’t care, it’s all perfect.

Panting, Scratch just leans against Wake for a few seconds, delighting in the delicious boneless feeling, his face nestled against Wake’s neck and shoulder. Mindlessly he wipes his hand on Wake’s shirt, his sticky, bloody, cum-slicked hand really just adding to and spreading around the gore and mess instead of cleaning anything off, and it’s pointless but he doesn’t care. He can feel Wake’s blood pumping, feel his body twitching and shaking, hear his heart and lungs, the soft whimper at the bottom of some of his gasps. The writer’s still in there somewhere, and Scratch just knows- this one’s going to stay with Wake, this one’s going to _haunt_ him. Scratch chuckles, tracing his tongue up Wake’s neck to his earlobe and sucking slightly, sighing contentedly.

“See?” Scratch murmurs into his ear, the wicked smile leaking into his syllables. “Wasn’t that so much more _fun?_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Lyric from Poets of the Fall's "Delicious".


End file.
